


Plot Twist

by Kholran



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Character, Blind Character, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 11:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3445841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kholran/pseuds/Kholran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you wanna build a snowman?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plot Twist

It all started with one simple question.

“Do you want to build a _snowman_?” Bard stood in front of him, sounding like Legolas. When he was five, and trying to sucker his parents out of one more cookie.

“What?” Thranduil looked up at him with confusion. The question had come out of nowhere, and he couldn’t determine whether or not it was a legitimate suggestion for what to do with the rest of their Saturday.

“C’mon, let’s go and play.” He sounded like he was pouting now. “I never see you anymore.”

“You just saw me last night.” He felt very very lost.

“Come out the door, it’s like you’ve gone awaaaay!” He’d started singing. “We used to be best buddies, and now we’re not. I wish you would tell me whyyy!”

Thranduil’s eyes narrowed. He remembered this from something Tauriel and Legolas had roped him into watching. “Are you trying to Disney me?”

“Do you wanna build a snowman?”

“You’re serious.”

“It doesn’t have to be a snowman.”  Bard paused for dramatic effect, before despondently adding, “Okay, bye.”

Bard could be very persuasive when he was channeling a cartoon princess, and Thranduil laughed, shaking his head in defeat. “Well when you put so much effort into asking…”  He made a grab for Bard’s sleeve before he could finish the act and shuffle away, and heaved himself up to his feet. “Alright, Princess Anna. Let’s go build a snowman. Remind me, how old are you again?”

“Adults can play in the snow too. Even uptight businessmen like you.”

“I prefer ‘reserved’. And you told me you didn’t sing. You’ve been holding out on me.” Somehow it made Bard even more attractive to him, but he kept that thought to himself.

“I don’t, in public. But I never said I couldn’t.” Thranduil could hear the cheeky smile in his voice. When they started down the path, Bard’s gloved hand found his, twining their fingers together, and he tried to hide the childish grin that threatened to spread across his face because of it.

They were still adjusting, and testing the waters in a lot of ways. Despite having both been previously married, it was different- both new and familiar all at once, and more than a little intimidating sometimes.

All things considered, it was going well enough so far.

The snowman building, on the other hand, didn’t quite make it to ‘successful’. They managed a lumpy, vaguely snowman-shaped blob with  mismatched pebbles for eyes and only one twig arm before deciding neither one had the artistic talent to make anything more of it. Their abysmal attempt did, however, inspire complicated story about a zombie snowman apocalypse that was entirely inappropriate for Bard’s usual audience.

He hadn’t quite finished it when the snow started to fall again, hard and fast and hours before the forecast had predicted the storm’s arrival. Within minutes, they were in the middle of a veritable blizzard, and by the time Bard had guided them back to Thranduil’s house through the whiteout, they were both thoroughly soaked through and chilled to the bone.

~*~

“Are you sure I can’t find you something else?” Thranduil returned from the kitchen, recently changed and carrying two mugs of hot chocolate. A fire crackled comfortingly in the grate, throwing some much needed warmth, and from the television across the room, the local news anchors were keeping the public up to speed with the storm.

“This is fine for now. Thanks for the loan,” Bard said, indicating the bath robe he wore while his own clothes were in the dryer. He was still hoping to head out and get back to his kids after they were dry, Thranduil knew, but so far that wasn’t looking very likely. The weatherman was predicting the storm to last the night, and travel was already a nightmare. The plows simply couldn’t keep up with the rate the snow was falling.

“It’s the least I could do after you went out of your way to walk me home. I never would have made it on my own in that kind of snow.” Thranduil handed one of the mugs to Bard, and then settled onto the sofa next to him.

“You know, I kind of like you, and running off in the middle of a blizzard doesn’t seem like the best way of showing it. Especially after my ironically unfortunate song selection. In retrospect, I should have gone with the one about summer.”  A grin flashed across Bard’s face as he glanced over at Thranduil. He cradled the green ceramic mug in both hands, no doubt appreciating the heat, and then raised it to his lips to take a tentative sip before changing the subject. “Have you talked to Legolas?”

Thranduil’s son had been notably absent when they’d gotten inside, and had remained so up to that point, suggesting he too had been stranded somewhere by the sudden snowstorm. “I’d never hear the end of it if I hadn’t.,” Thranduil replied. “I called when I was upstairs changing. He’s at Tauriel’s, and I told him to stay put for the night.” He took a long draught from his own mug, letting the chocolate linger on his tongue before he swallowed it and spoke again. “Maybe it would be a good idea if you did the same.”

The words hung in the air between them.

“You want me to stay the night?” Bard finally asked, his tone measured and cautious, as though he were afraid of misinterpreting the request in some way.

“I just mean…it isn’t safe to go anywhere right now. Let me fix dinner, at least, and if it’s still bad after that, we can find a movie on Netflix or something. I can set up the guest room if you don’t…if you aren’t…if we…” Thranduil didn’t often fumble for his words, but something about Bard left him flustered and searching more often than not these days. “If that’s too big a step,” he finished.

Bard seemed to consider the offer for a long while. “Before I say yes to this after dinner movie plan,” he started, drawing the words out slowly, “I need to ask you something very important.” He set his mug down on the side table and leaned forward, bringing them eye to eye. One hand came to lightly rest on Thranduil’s knee.

“What’s that?” The proximity made Thranduil’s heart pound in his chest and his mouth felt suddenly dry.

“I need to ask you,” he repeated, moving even closer. Thranduil could smell a unique mixture of melted snow, aftershave, and  lingering hint of hot chocolate. There was barely a hair’s breadth between them when Bard posed his question. “What are your thoughts on _Top Gun_?”


End file.
